Scar Tissue
by Punk Rock Trash
Summary: UPDATED! (finally) New season according to me. Rebel girl transfers to Degrassi. Some will like her, some won't. Chaos, romance, drama, craziness, you get the idea. RR?
1. Introduction, my ass

.x. CHAPTER ONE .x.  
  
= Introduction, my ass. =  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, or Canadian television, or Canada (dammit!).  
  
[N/ I've finally found an excuse to use my ff.net account: Degrassi fics! I used to be one of the most prominent writers in the Gorillaz section before fanfiction.net went to hell and booted off the music groups part! So since this is my first try on a DG piece, you'll have to cut me a break if you think it sucks.]  
  
"This is it?" I gulped, trying hard not to sound too disappointed. The car had stopped about a hundred yards away from a clutch of buildings, all presented with a quaint, cheery sign that read, "DEGRASSI COMMUNITY SCHOOL."  
  
"This is it!" my mother exclaimed, and I could sense the fondness in her voice. "I attended this school way back when! I just never thought I would grow up and have my child go to the same place!"  
  
"I prefer you not to acknowledge the fact that I'm actually related to you."  
  
"Oh, come on, Candy, it's not that bad."  
  
"Try being named Candy CORNE, Mom!"  
  
"Candy, don't be like this on your first day of school."  
  
"I'm going to be like this until I can legally change my name. And you know what I'm going to give as a reason? My mother was DRUNK when she gave birth to me so she named me CANDY CORNE, thinking it would be HILARIOUS to see her child in torment for the rest of her life!"  
  
"Have a nice day at school, sweetie." Mom leaned over and kissed me on top of the head. How embarrassing. I could practically feel the steam frying the kiss mark right off the centre of my forehead as I stepped from the car and she merrily zoomed away.  
  
I turned to face the piece of crap building I'm going to be imprisoned in for the next nine months. God.  
  
I shifted my backpack a little and began taking my first steps towards hell. I guess it could be worse; I could be in a Catholic school, like the last time, where we all had to endure hours of stupid Bible-beating, the whole damn building ruled by theocracy, we all dressed alike, and we had no freedom of speech.  
  
I hated not being able to dye my hair, wear tennis shoes, speak my mind, listen to music, or be openly gay (which I'm not, but I know for a fact that if you were at that school, they'd probably kick you out).  
  
At St. Peter's, there was a no-touching rule. No closer than six inches. Enough room for the "holy spirit" bullshit. Fuck that. I made it a point to hump guys regularly in front of the nuns. Flicked off the sorry mothers, routinely brought up the subject of sex, drugs, rock and roll, asked them if they masturbated. I got slapped with the ruler a bit. I got in trouble for everything and anything from telling a teacher to suck my left one to hocking a submarine sandwich at a fellow student (what? She pissed me off!). Disobedience, lack of respect, send her to "the Reverend."  
  
The Reverend and I had become good friends that year. I got sent to his office at least once a month, sometimes once a week. Such a charming man. No one could resist his monotone voice and thick-rimmed glasses, that shock of grey-white hair on either side of his balding head and that constant stern expression. He always told me that it was wrong to disobey and that I would be punished and blah blah, blah blah BLAH, but underneath, I knew his secret liking for me and my blunt, rude questions about the truth of the church, and the world in general, for that matter. The Reverend had once been a pretty cool guy and at times his queerness escaped him and he let me off the hook.  
  
Somehow I could edge my way around serious punishment for the most part, since Big R and I had become such good friends. A few days of after-school detention or deprivation of social-centred activities, like participating in cheerleading or attending basket ball games. That kind of stuff broke my heart. Yeah right.  
  
But I just told my dear mother that I was in some kind of Catholic club or something of that sort, and got my detentions scheduled and revolved around that little lie. She ate it up.  
  
But finally, the day came when I could no longer screw with the system. Sister Mary Katherine had the last straw when they found out it was me who spray-painted 'Nuns are lesbians' and '666' in dripping blood red paint on the third-floor bathroom walls. I was sent immediately from my math class to the Reverend. And this would be the last time.  
  
"What's goin' on, Big R?" I asked, casually sauntering into his office.  
  
"Have a seat, Candy."  
  
I sat. The Reverend folded his hands and looked at me. "Is it true that you sprayed an appalling message in the girl's bathroom on the third floor?"  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Did you or didn't you?"  
  
I shrugged. "Sure, I did."  
  
I stuck to the facts and skipped the bullshit. In my younger days, I lied in order to escape my punishment. But in my ripe old age, I had learned that it was easiest to tell the truth as frankly as possible: just admit to having committed the crime and give your reason. My reasons were often weak and ill supported, without thought or structure. I just hated it here. The Reverend knew that. Everyone knew that.  
  
But my honest approach always seemed to shock Big R. He pulled a handkerchief from his drawer and mopped his head with it. "I don't understand why."  
  
"I was struck with inspiration."  
  
"To write, to write..." his voice trailed. He glanced around nervously as to make sure no one was watching, leaned forward, and whispered, "'666?''Nuns are lesbians?' "  
  
"Aren't they?"  
  
"That's not the point!"  
  
"I've missed the point."  
  
"The point is, you graffitied private property! Vandalized on school grounds! Insulted the sisters of the church!"  
  
"And...?"  
  
The Reverend shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to—"  
  
I rolled them off on my fingers for him. "Give me an in house, a week's worth of detention, cafeteria clean-up duty, write a letter to a shut-in?"  
  
I knew them all. Too well.  
  
"No. As much as I hate to, I'm going to have you expelled."  
  
My ears perked and my heart skipped. "Wh-what?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Candy."  
  
"Aww, Big R, I'm sorry, too. Who's going to be the resident troublemaker at St. Peter's?"  
  
"Candace! I am being totally serious!" he shouted.  
  
"So am I!" I retorted. I leaned back in my chair, arms folded in defiance.  
  
He rubbed his shiny forehead with the handkerchief again. "I like you, Candy. I think you are a very bright girl. But I've put up with enough out of you in this year alone to comprise for every student in the entire history of the school."  
  
"Yeah," I said, suddenly thoughtful. "You outta give me a plaque and put my picture in a frame."  
  
Big R shook his head in either disappointment or frustration, I couldn't tell which. "Will you ever drop that attitude? It's very disrespectful."  
  
I took a piece of butterscotch from the dish and unwrapped it. "Disrespectful my ass." I popped the candy in my mouth and the Reverend stared. "Sorry for the slip, Big R. I just don't care to be here anymore. Plus, the school year's practically over."  
  
"There's still two weeks left, and exams are next week. We'll compromise. You finish out the school year without any more trouble to add to your record and I won't kick you out. Even though you've been a nuisance, I care more about your education than your criminal records."  
  
"You got it, Big R."  
  
I exited the office smirking. Oh how sweet life was.  
  
It was less than a week later that I had been drinking and was suddenly struck with artistic motivation once again, and this time half of the entire wall of Saint Peter's Catholic Church had been scrawled with the message: 'CHURCH IS CONFORMITY. ST. PETER'S MY ASS.' and 'LATER BIG R. LOVE, CANDY.'  
  
*******  
  
"Hello?" someone asked impatiently.  
  
"Huh?" I blinked and looked over my right shoulder. There stood a tan, blonde girl in brand name clothing, chewing at her wad of gum and tapping her foot, irritated at my slow response.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there and stare at the building all day, or are you going to move, or something?"  
  
"Are you just going to bitch all day or are you going to drop that attitude, or something?" I snapped back.  
  
"So-ry," she said, sarcastic, and headed off with an equally preppy black girl.  
  
I rolled my eyes and trotted up the steps. As I approached a set of doorways, a cute guy with dark, curly hair held the door open for me. "Thanks,"  
  
"No problem."  
  
"What's your name?" he asked, all friendly like. What a relief. If I had based my opinions on the bitch that I'd met seconds earlier, I would say every kid at this school was a snob. But this guy was very well behaved. Interesting.  
  
"Candy—" I hesitated, forgetting my last name.  
  
"I'm Craig. Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Likewise."  
  
Damn. What a catch. And I'd only been here for two minutes.  
  
"Transferred?" he asked, fumbling around with another door.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Where from?"  
  
"West Warwick, Rhode Island. Saint Peter's Catholic High School."  
  
"Catholic, youch."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
"Why'd you move here?"  
  
"My mother's job. She loves it here. Seems to think I'll get something out of it, as well." I shrugged. "Anything to get out of that hole in the wall up there."  
  
"What grade you in?"  
  
"Eleventh."  
  
"I'm in grade eleven this year, too. Maybe we'll have some classes together."  
  
"Maybe,"  
  
I studied all of the students as Craig escorted me down the hall. Most of them just dressed normally, you know, jeans and tee shirts with tennis shoes or whatnot, but suddenly I caught the eye of one that stood out from the crowd. One of those typical Goth girls. Who needs 'em.  
  
Goth girl approached us with a smile. "Hey Craig," she greeted. I took this time to examine her closer: she had purple-red, choppy hair and heavily lined eyes, and wore a stunning array of all black. While she seemed very nice, she resembled the girl ogre off of Shrek. She began walking with us.  
  
Craig did the honours. "Ashley, this is Candy. Candy, Ashley."  
  
"Hi, and welcome to DeGrassi."  
  
"Thanks, looks like I'll be needing it." I replied, nodding to the same blonde chick from earlier. At least Goth Girl was friendly.  
  
"Oh, that's Paige. You'll find it's often best just to ignore her."  
  
"Apparently." I said, leaning back to take aim. It wasn't seconds later that my cotton candy gum had found itself a nice little home in Paige's lovely store-bought blonde hair.  
  
"Paige!" the black girl from earlier shrieked in dismay, pointing to the bright blue wad nestled in an array of blonde.  
  
Paige ran her French-manicured hand over her head. "Honestly, Haze, what's your prob—OH MY GOD!"  
  
Paige screeched as her finger came in contact with my Bubblicious apprentice. She hopped in place for a full ten seconds straight, repeating, "My hair!" Nonetheless, this caused quite a scene in the formerly quiet hallway. A few concerned toadies rushed over to her as she clawed her luscious locks into frenzy.  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
"What happened to your hair, baby?"  
  
"Is there anything I can do?"  
  
As if the weight of the world depended on her looking perfect.  
  
"Which," Paige breathed, "one of you MORONS...did this," she pointed up the stringy greenish mess, "to MY HAIR?"  
  
Most teen residences of the school continued down the hallway. Exasperated, Paige just announced, "Screw off!" to all her attendees and strode into the bathroom.  
  
"Ha!" A muscular guy with thick eyebrows and a bean on snickered as he passed. "Nice shot."  
  
"Thanks," I replied, proud of myself.  
  
"Candy, I can't believe you just did that to Paige!" Ashley said, surprised.  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"If she ever finds out you did that to her..."  
  
"Lighten up, Ash. Save the loss of gum, it was pretty funny." Craig interrupted, hazel eyes dancing in mischievously.  
  
Ashley's suppressed grin lost its valour, and she gave into expressing her amusement. "It was kind of funny. Way to introduce yourself, Candy."  
  
*****  
  
[N/ So that's it, for now. Please review.] 


	2. Reflexive pronouns?

.x. CHAPTER TWO .x.  
  
= Reflexive pronouns? =  
  
[N/ So I know the beginning was about the length of, well, the length of time before a commercial set in. :) Just thought I would mention that the beginning scene between Paige and Candy was a little over emphasized and I know Paige really isn't all that bad, she was just being PAIGE, and we all know what that's like. Also thought I might mention that, though confusing, some chapters or parts of chapters will be written in third person, and others in Candy's point of view. Thanks so much for all your support!]  
  
"Have you heard about what that new girl did to Paige's hair?" Manny asked Emma, as they filed out of their Science class.  
  
Emma restrained herself from rolling her eyes but pretended to be interested. "No, what happened?"  
  
Manny took her by the shoulder and gushed, "She spit gum in her hair! It was a mess, and Paige is pissed,"  
  
"Whoa!" Emma said with a nod, thoroughly impressed.  
  
"Was that because you saw my suave saunter coming your way, or because I'm so damn sexy?" a voice whispered in Emma's ear.  
  
"J.T.!" she scolded, smacking the nearest upper arm without even looking at the face of her suitor.  
  
"What's up, ladies?" J.T. greeted as he approached. He nodded to the both of them, winking at Manny.  
  
"If it wasn't J.T..." Emma's voice trailed and she slowly looked around her shoulder. "Then,"  
  
"It was I, my sweet." Toby proclaimed, his head looming centimeters behind Emma's neck. He still spoke with the sleek, what he thought was sensual voice.  
  
"Toby!" Emma exclaimed, not in anger but shock.  
  
"Yes?" he breathed, tracing his finger along her bare arm.  
  
"Toby, what are you DOING?"  
  
"Just admiring your effervescent beauty...the way your hair and skin just collide into one delicate enigma—"  
  
"Tobs," J.T. interrupted. "That's just...that's just plain weird."  
  
"Yeah, Toby! You're kind of freaking me out!" Manny added, on the verge of giggles. She didn't laugh, though; by the looks of Emma's face, she couldn't decide which of the three to punch first.  
  
"Freaking YOU out?" Emma echoed. "You're even freaking me out!"  
  
"I'm sorry, my fairest, I was only addressing your features, your grace—"  
  
"Toby! Stop it!" Emma turned her back the trio to retrieve her required books from her locker.  
  
"So Manny," J.T. began, working up his courage as their companions were distracted. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm doing really good, thanks." she responded with a grin.  
  
"Great, well, uh," J.T. exhaled and smiled, hoping he didn't sound dorky or stupid. "What are you doing this weekend? Got any plans?"  
  
"I'm going to go ice skating with Emma on Friday night." Manny told him, thoughtful as she rehearsed her weekend schedule through her brain.  
  
His excited expression diminished. A sense of rejection seeping in, he clawed the back of his scalp in worry and waited for the, 'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm busy! I really want to do something! But I have to wash my hair...' speech.  
  
"But that's no biggie. I'm free all of Saturday. Why, would you wanna do something?"  
  
The smile found its way back onto J.T's face. "Yeah! So I'll call you tomorrow and we'll plan something for Saturday?"  
  
Manny nodded, apprehensive. "Sounds great."  
  
"Great!" J.T. beamed, the mental victory won. It had taken days to work up that nerve, and it had been spent well.  
  
"If you would only hear my plea, my sweet!" Toby chorused, voice carrying through the hall. His annoying attempts to "woo" Emma interjected in between J.T.'s decent, and at least normal proposal.  
  
"Toby, I've asked you nicely. Please leave me alone." Emma requested, her tone growing harsh. She slung her purse over her arm and glared at him.  
  
"I cannot, for—"  
  
"Go AWAY!" Emma burst out. "Come on, Manny." She seized Manny by the arm and dragged her as distantly as possible from their Romeos.  
  
"Bye!" J.T. called, waving.  
  
"Bye!" Manny laughed, running to catch up with her friend.  
  
"Isn't she beautiful?" Toby sighed dreamily, once the two girls were out of sight.  
  
"Dude, you scared the piss out of her!"  
  
"But you told me to be honest and romantic! And that's exactly what I'm doing!"  
  
"I never said to be freaky, did I?"  
  
"I'm not being freaky!"  
  
"Uh, yeah, you are. You had her running away from you. Tell me you can't just smell the fear. Or is that love?"  
  
"Damn it! What must I do to win her?"  
  
J.T. shrugged. "I don't know. But first you can try not being weird. She'd probably piss herself in fear of dying before she even dreamed of kissing you."  
  
*****  
  
Two minutes hadn't passed since Spinner last thought of sex when a trivial being appeared before him. And this made his dick spring up and sex came right back.  
  
His tongue hung limp and dry inside his mouth as his eyes caught sight of the mysterious thing caressing the halls with a dense sort of glow he'd never even imagined. He stopped short right in the middle of harassing Paige Michelchuck just to crane his neck and get a good luck at her.  
  
"Her" was rather a misfit when it came to blending in; "Her" wore a plaid skirt with a black wife beater (the Crimson Skull on the front) and walked funny, with her shoulders back and her hips forward. "Her" hair waved in a dark brown mess ending right around her chin, and some pieces stuck out, making it look like she'd just woken up. "Her" had the longest eyelashes Mason had ever seen, with a pierced, naturally pouty lip.  
  
And "her"...was the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed. Confused, he had never quite been so intrigued by a member of the opposite sex in his entire life.  
  
"Spin! What are you gawking at?" his girlfriend asked.  
  
His girlfriend was none other than the occupier of the top spot on Degrassi's MOST WANTED list: Paige Michelchuck. For months Spinner had asked her out relentlessly, and they'd on off dated for quite some time.  
  
He glanced at the perky blonde, dressed in a yellow halter lined in pink trim, a khaki skirt, and matching yellow and pink striped sandals. Spin thought she was totally adorable, how could he give her up now?  
  
"Just admiring how hot you are, Baby cakes,"  
  
"That's my Honey Bunch,"  
  
She then offered him a quick peck on the lips, which might have served as a better breeding ground for the reasoning behind the hard bulge in his pants.  
  
"Spin!" Paige exclaimed with a startled giggle.  
  
"Sorry, babe, I can't help it!" Spinner told her earnestly, adding in a convincing, goofy smile. Which wasn't a complete lie...  
  
"I know!" she replied, heading in the opposite direction. "See you,"  
  
Mouth devoid of saliva, he mouthed a "bye," but only air came out.  
  
As soon as the Abercrombie ass had vanished around a corner, Spinner had set to work in finding that girl, the cause of his boner. He sprinted past the water fountain, nearly bowling over Manny in the process and ripped around a corner to see the plaid-skirted behind disappear into the very English class he was due to in about thirty seconds.  
  
Abandoning the need for books, Spinner dashed through the door and stumbled to a halt, eyes searching the room madly for the delicious piece of punk ass.  
  
Marco, Ellie, Ashley...his eyes darted along the row of seats. "Where are you?" he wondered, his mind in a state of pure and urgent muddle. Terri, Jimmy, Craig...  
  
There. There she was, seated right next to Craig Manning. Spinner scrambled to find a seat...the seat next to her was empty!  
  
"Hi. Mind if I sit here?"  
  
She didn't have a choice.  
  
"Go for it." she offered, sarcastic, and Spinner's heart leapt for joy as he plopped in the empty chair.  
  
"Spinner Mason, nice to meet you." He faked, putting on the most distinguished act he had ever pulled off to date. He extended his hand.  
  
The demonic angel didn't seem to notice; she'd never met him anyway. Her fingernails (polished black) reached across a pile of books to meet his clammy hand. "Candy."  
  
Candy...the sound of her sweet name. Her voice rung in his ears as the bell echoed its shrill toll and class began. Spinner slipped a badly scrawled note to his left, Ms. Kwan's voice ignored as she explained the error of reflexive pronoun use.  
  
'don't you have a last name'  
  
Candy reacted as if the note were very funny and wrote in short, neat letters, 'those don't exist where I come from.' and slid it back to him.  
  
No last name? Was that legal? Spinner didn't have time to think before his hand flew across his paper, the next inquire begging, 'you've got to have a last name'  
  
The conversation continued:  
  
'It's lame. And last names don't matter. Everyone goes by their first names around here.'  
  
'I don't care. I wanna know.'  
  
'Ask me something I can answer.'  
  
'Will you marry me?'  
  
"Psh!" Candy snickered at his request. Leaning close to the note page half- filled with words, she scrawled a longer message and passed it to him, under the table this time.  
  
Spinner didn't know which to be more excited about, the fact that she was acknowledging his persistence, or that her hand had brushed his. He smoothed out the note. It read, 'Maybe. Hold your breath until English ends, then I'll have a definite answer.'  
  
"Mr. Mason?" Ms. Kwan asked, the cruel sound of disappointment filling the poor boy's ears and filtering to his brain. "Can you give me an example?"  
  
"Er," Spinner struggled, "Uh..."  
  
"Can anyone tell me?" she inquired.  
  
It appeared that Spinner wasn't the only clueless student. Candy sighed in annoyance and stuck her hand in the air.  
  
"Let's try Candy." Ms. Kwan called, pleased to see some participation.  
  
"If you were to use a term, such as, oh, maybe 'his' and 'own' right next to each other. His own: that's a double positive. Technically it shouldn't exist. It's repetitive." Candy explained, slouching in her seat and returning to chewing her gum.  
  
He stared. Smart and beautiful should be outlawed! What woman has both brains and beauty? She was PERFECT. He already felt the drool.  
  
"Hey," Candy whispered, "are you ok?"  
  
"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Just fine." He choked out in a hushed  
  
But was he really? Suddenly he had that feeling again, and oh, his poor, poor pants with his swollen boner. And Candy just so happened to notice his new friend.  
  
"Slow down, cowboy, looks like you've got one too many cows in the barn."  
  
Spinner pretended to drop his pencil so that she wouldn't see his hot face. But as he retrieved the pencil from the ground, he looked up into a pair of eyes, and they were glazed over in malice.  
  
"Spin, it's nice to know you're associating with my greatest enemy! Thanks for backing me up!" Paige spat.  
  
"What!"  
  
"That's the one that I told you spit in my hair! And you're flirting with her!" she said, eying his new interest with despise.  
  
"I didn't know that was her, babe!"  
  
"This is your wake up call." Paige told him, voice icy.  
  
The bell rang, and class cleared, but Spinner remained seated, mind in contempt and worry. He had to find a way to fix this, and fast; the only place this crush would take him was Dumpsville, and with a worn out pair of trousers. 


	3. Rust Root can die

.x. CHAPTER THREE .x.  
  
= Rust Root can die =  
  
[N/ First off: endless thanks for all the reviews! You don't realize how helpful they are! I know I'm kind of a dunce when it comes to general knowledge (Spinner got held back? Nobody told me!), and I apologize for my mistakes in advance. I'm sorry it took my so long before posting this new chapter, too! I guess this makes it equal, since I got the last chapter up so fast; Spring Break left me a little lazier than I suspected.]  
  
"So how was your first day at Degrassi?" Ashley asked me as a swarm of pupils exited the stone building.  
  
"It was...interesting," I mused.  
  
"Meet anyone special?"  
  
"Hmm," I thought back to the last period I had. "There was this goofy kid in my English class who kept harassing me for my vital information. He would have found out everything about my vital statistics down to my blood type if I had offered. Didn't you see him?"  
  
Ashley was curious: "I didn't see you! What did he look like? Did you catch his name?"  
  
"He had a nickname that he's probably used since second grade. It was Dancer, or something like that."  
  
"Dancer?" she asked in disbelief, but her eyes glowed in amusement.  
  
"I don't remember!"  
  
"Oh!" realization smashed Ashley like a ton of bricks. "I know who you're talking about now! You must mean Spinner!"  
  
"That's it!" I laughed. "Total dork!"  
  
She shrugged. "He's a pretty good guy. He's dating Paige, though."  
  
"I wanted him!" I scoffed. "He sure wasn't acting like he was dating little Miss Priss. He was hitting on me!"  
  
Taken aback, the Goth couldn't help but make a face. "He hit on you?"  
  
"A bit too obviously, I suppose," I acknowledged, pointing in the distance. About twenty feet away from us, Romeo was receiving a heavy bitching from his jealous girlfriend.  
  
"What's up?" Craig asked, appearing at Ashley's side.  
  
"Spinner was hitting on Candy."  
  
Craig wrinkled his nose. "That's a good one."  
  
"You were there." I reminded. "He passed me about ten notes in English class. I could hardly concentrate between him, the redhead smacking her gum, and the chinkette's voice."  
  
Ashley's eyebrows shot up. Suddenly, a short, stubby black girl marched up to the trio and addressed us with, "are you that new girl?"  
  
"New girl has a name." I said as-a-matter-of-factly.  
  
Huffy, the imp smirked and demanded, "Oh? And what would that be?"  
  
"Candy."  
  
"Right. Ok, Candy, I was just going to ask your opinion on a standard Degrassi issue. What do you think of that tree over there?" she pointed into the distance.  
  
All of us studied a darkened tree with a thick trunk and a few leaves. "Psh. If you ask me, it looks like it won't last much longer than Bush."  
  
Ashley and Craig spotted a friend standing beneath the tree's limbs, and decided to go join him. "We're going to go catch up with Jimmy. Join us when you're done." Ashley said to me, running over to the spot. I attempted to follow them, but the girl had me cornered.  
  
"So do you think it would be right to cut it down?"  
  
I shrugged. "Is it diseased?"  
  
She looked up from the clipboard. "Please just answer the question."  
  
"Well, based on the tree's appearance, I'd say it looks pretty bad, and it's most likely beyond any natural repair. Put it out of its misery. Cut the fucker down."  
  
She sneered at my language but scribbled something on her clipboard. "Thank you for your opinion. You don't mind if I use it on my morning edition, do you?"  
  
"Hell if I care." I said.  
  
The mini-Hitler adjusted her glasses and smiled in triumph. "You know, I agree with you. That tree is a disgrace to our property. I can't wait until I can tell Mr. O' Donald this!"  
  
"Wait. What's this for, anyway?" I asked, worried it might be some environmental control group out to get nature's bullies.  
  
"It's for debate club. Emma is trying to keep that old tree up on the grounds, and it only makes us look bad. I'm taking a poll to see if the student body agrees with me."  
  
"So how's that going?"  
  
"Excellent. Out of the fifty-one students polled, forty-two of them said it appeared sickly and thought it out to be cut. Six said they couldn't tell, and three said flat-out no. But," she looked up, "That's a minute portion of the student body."  
  
"Great." I said, a bit disinterested. "Have fun."  
  
The girl strode off to harass some other innocent by-standers, and I went to the place where the few people I knew were gathered. "My place at eight!" the guy I'd been told was named Jimmy concluded as I approached.  
  
"What's goin on?"  
  
Craig explained, "Oh, Jimmy's having a party Friday night." He turned briefly to the tall boy and asked, "you don't care, do you?"  
  
He shook his head, negative, and Craig continued, "It would be great if you could come! You know, just," he paused, and then decided against going on.  
  
I ignored it. "No problem. I'll be there."  
  
Craig smiled and exclaimed, "Great!"  
  
"Excellent!" Jimmy agreed.  
  
A harassed-looking overweight girl suddenly appeared, joining the eleventh- year student body. "I'm sure glad that's over," she huffed, throwing an angry look over her shoulder.  
  
"Did Liberty weasel your opinion out of you too, Terri?" Craig asked, grinning good-naturedly.  
  
"She already caught me for that one," Jimmy offered with a shrug. "I told her I didn't know."  
  
The chubby girl Craig called Terri persisted in the conversation. "I told her to cut it down. That tree is so old and sick. Forget that it looks bad, it's hurting."  
  
"Yeah, it's ancient!" said a redheaded punker. "I told her to do away with it, too."  
  
"I didn't!" a voice announced, and a lanky blonde ninth-year (tenth, maybe) entered our group. "How could you want to cut down something so beautiful?"  
  
No one replied.  
  
"I'm trying to keep Old Rust Root on the campus for as long as possible." She told us, starting around the circle with yellow fliers. "It's a part of tradition, a Degrassi staple! Only someone cold-hearted would have the nerve to—"  
  
How could they all just stand there and stare? Didn't they have mouths? Or opinions? I suppose no one had the heart to shut her up, but I most certainly have the mouth to. And I never miss an opportunity to run my mouth.  
  
I fired. "Says you. It's only a tree. How many trees are there in the world?"  
  
"Only a tree?" she repeated, then shot back, "How many people are there in the world that need trees to inhale the air they breathe?"  
  
I grinned. "How many people are there in the world who need firewood?"  
  
A few kids snickered at my smart-ass response. She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I guess you're just not sensitive enough to understand."  
  
"Or maybe you're not mature enough to understand that the tree is sick as hell, and needs some relief. I'm with Hitler on this one."  
  
"Doesn't anyone here care?"  
  
The chubby one spoke for us all. "Sorry Em, we just think it needs to go."  
  
"Terri's right, it's just too old." the metal-adorned redhead agreed. The occasional "yeah" or "right" chimed in behind her.  
  
Emma crossed her arms and sighed in frustration. "Let me know when any of you start caring about the earth." I stuck my tongue out at her behind her back. She started to another clutch of bodies, fliers in hand.  
  
"Good luck!" I crowed. "Maybe they'll care!" What? I know it's deliberate bitchiness, but that's half the fun in life.  
  
*****  
  
"Does this mascara look ok, or does it make me look like a frog?" I asked, turning around from the mirror to showcase my smoky eyes, lined with dark mascara.  
  
Ashley nodded. "It looks really great. What about mine?"  
  
"Stunning, as always," I responded, the both of us flashing each other smiles. "Thanks for letting me get ready at your house, by the way."  
  
She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "It's nothing."  
  
"Ready to go wow the fuckers at that party? Knock out everyone with our overwhelming sexiness?" I asked, examining my reflection in the mirror. The girl in the mirror tilted her red chuck taylor to the right, showing off her fish-net covered calf and winked.  
  
Ashley appeared in the mirror behind the overly-dressed punkette, and she moved out of the way so the Goth could see herself. Ashley straightened out her own black skirt and snickered at the image. "Dressed to impress," she added, though her voice seemed unsteady. She was probably nervous.  
  
"Alright!" I decided, flinging my purse over my arm. "Then let's go get 'em!" 


End file.
